Aurora's Encore
by Flowers of Frost
Summary: Wammy's House was a prestigious orphanage which prided themselves in shaping the next elite class of master minds. The mission was simple, to create and shape the next L. Enter Aurora - snatched away from all she knew and loved and thrown into the chaos which is Wammy's House. The only problem is, Wammy's doesn't accept women.


_I've never written a Death Note themed story before, so it was quite exciting to attempt to write one! I really hope you enjoy this chapter and please tell me what you think in your reviews!_

_Also, please note that the following chapters to this story will be written in third person; for the prologue I felt it necessary to write it in first person! Sorry if this annoys or confuses anyone! Plus, the following chapters after this one will be much longer in length!_

_I do not own Death Note or any of its wonderful characters!_

_X-x-X_

Prologue:

Perhaps not the first time in my nineteen years of life, I was faced with a situation where I had no concept of how I ended up in such a disastrous affair, but for some reason that was so preposterous, I felt the need to protect the injured blonde who lay, limp and lifeless, beside me.

My hand clasped his tightly, in a vain sense of hope that his long, delicate fingers would squeeze mine in the same manner, but they remained relaxed and cold.

In a way, he was quite lucky that he was not conscious, as a foul aroma of burning hair and flesh had engulfed the room. My stomach churned as I inhaled the musky smell.

The ramshackle building, which only an hour previously had been a fine, modern build, which was quite impressive against the bleak backdrop of the sparsely inhabited desert, teetered rather sickening, but I couldn't help the smirk that graced my lips at the fact that, despite the exterior damage of the building, the interior – or rather _this _room in particular – remained perfectly unscarred.

Was it luck? Was it the fact that all of heavens angels had bestowed upon me some grace of God that had saved my life? No. It had been simple maths; calculations and the careful, precise placing of explosives, so that when they were detonated, the rest of the building – particularly the exterior – would be demolished completely, leaving this room unscathed…

Well, in theory, it had been the perfect plot. However, in practice, there had been some _minor _injuries, that my calculations and predictions had failed to forecast. On the other hand, the rest of the plot had been pulled of smoothly, apart from the fact that the Death Note was now in the clutches of the Japanese Task Force and that most, if not all, of the mafia were now dead or dying, buried under the debris of the defeated building.

I will admit that I, for one, had not expected the entirety of the mafia to have been in the base at that time. As well as the fact that, the explosives had been meant to be detonated when we had all been far away, in another location, for which we now had no directions to. This room, the room where I now sat in a crumpled, pained heap, had been the last resort, the 'escape route from death', as it would be. I had only installed it for such an emergency, such as if we had been taken by surprise – which we, unfortunately and to my upmost rage, had.

Gritting my teeth against the onslaught of pain that blazed through my body, I shifted slightly into a more 'comfortable' position. Something warm, sticky and quite abundant was pooling around me and after a quick examination of the blonde at my side, I was thankful that it was not coming from him.

I was expendable. He was not. He was the future of our plight, of our mission to prevent Kira, the lunatic with the Death Note, from becoming the new age 'God'. I was grateful that I had made it this far, but yet; I couldn't help but feel a slight stab of regret. I still felt that I had much to see, to do, and to sacrifice; it did seem such a waste to die here, where my body would rot away with the rest of the vermin who I had deceived those two years ago.

I had hated them all. I did hate them all. I was glad they were dead (or dying).

I could resent the mafia for a lot. However, I would be a fool to lay the blame of my life entirely on them, for it was not their sole fault. No, the start of all this had been that orphanage and the rules, the rules that had been thrown against me like a tirade of water, a tsunami of hate and resentment that I had had to battle every baby step of the way.

It was all because I was female.

Even with the mafia, I was met with limitations. I was patronized from every side because of my sex, because the average mafia male could not comprehend the concept that a woman could be just as intelligent, if not more, than him. However, despite everything, I had progressed in the mafia swiftly, but in the process, met my nemesis who bonded an alliance with me. I had been sure that I had known him before, that I had been close to him, but I didn't remember much of my childhood. It was all a whitewash, everything before my move to America, just after my fifteenth birthday. After that, life had progressed quickly and it would be a lie to say that it had not been a whirlwind of experiences, mostly unpleasant, but I had shaped me, crafted me, to become the creature that I was now.

Nevertheless, at this moment in time, I was at a complete loss of what I should do now. I was in no fit state to carry the body of the blonde male beside me out of the building and even if I had not sustained the injuries which I had, the possibility from escaping from this room where I currently sat, was next to none.

I ground my teeth. It helped to alleviate the pain which pulsed through my body, but it was also a rather unintentional motion, brought on due to my frustration and aggression. I found that if I did not grind my teeth at moments like this, the nearest object or better, person, would receive a rather nasty and unpredicted kick. My body, being in the current state it was, was in no form to kick anybody and, my rational side argued, the unconscious blonde would not benefit from receiving the brunt of my frustration.

My mind was a flurry of activity. Despite the rural location of the building, the explosion would not have gone unnoticed. That therefore meant that people, most likely police and news crews, would be arriving soon. Therefore, I had little to no time before my immediate death sentence would be arranged, unless I could work out a way to escape.

The only plausible escape route out of this room was to dig through the rubble and since I was the only person in this room who was still conscious, this task fell to me.

I had, before this moment, avoided viewing the damage that the blast had sustained to my body. If the wounds were horrific, I could possibly go into shock and die when I saw them, but on the other hand, sitting here and doing nothing out of fear of what my injuries could look like would kill me anyway. Consequently, I mentally braced myself, inhaling deeply, before lowering my gaze slowly to my throbbing body.

A sticky crimson liquid which I identified immediately as blood had coated my right hand side quite thickly, staining the once crisp white blouse past the point of salvaging. The blood had clotted in rings of different shades of crimson, the deepest red being central, which allowed me to note how large the wound was in size.

I probed with my finger, wincing and recoiling as my finger delved a little too far into the wound with a little too much vigour. However, I was pleased to note that the pain was not unbearable; I had not fainted from contact with the wound.

After toying with my injury, I examined the rest of my body, noting several gashes, but none which I saw as being life threatening.

I shifted a little, trying to apply pressure to my hands to lift myself from the ground. Blazing pain laced through my right arm with the same intensity of that of being branded with an iron poker.

Stars swam uneasily before my eyes, disorientating me. Breathing deeply, I slowly worked to calm my racing pulse and to fight through the nauseating pain, rejoicing slightly as my eyesight slowly returned to me, as the stars faded to nothingness.

My stomach heaved at the sight of my right arm; a pearly white bone jutted through the pale complexity of my skin. Around the seams of the broken skin, fingers of crimson blood trickled down my elbow and into the ever increasing pool of blood which I still resided in.

The sight of the protruding bone and the pain which still throbbed like some deep bass through my body resulted in the contents of my stomach being released in a torrent of fowl smelling bile, onto the floor to my left.

My eyelids drooped a little. Exhaustion, most probably from over exertion and loss of blood, was slowly claiming my body. I was numb, even to the pain and my head swam once again, but this time, I couldn't break the surface.

I silently cursed the useless red head that I had once considered a friend. He had left in a huff this morning, quoting how dangerous my plan was likely to be and that he wanted no part in it. Although, considering my current predicament, I guess he was right. I really should have listened to him more.

My eyes came to rest on the blonde. His face had somehow turned in my direction and I stifled a gasp at the sight of the half of his once handsome face, which I could see. The majority of the skin was burnt away, leaving his face a patchwork of pale skin and brutal burns. Where the skin had been stripped away, the vicious red of the muscle and tissue was on display. Around his hair line, where the worst of the burns ended, the skin was black and crisped. I promptly noted that he was the source of the disgusting odour. I was slightly relieved; I didn't want to add burns to my ever increasing list of injuries.

Perhaps in my delirium, I had imagined him stir and then stand. I couldn't be sure, but perhaps he had talked, but even if he had, his words washed over my deaf ears and made no sense.

As the black tides came to claim me, my face felt warm; natural warmth usually made by the sun caressing ones checks.

But, in the end, I couldn't be sure.


End file.
